Daughter of the Fallen by Madeline Wynn First Chapter Reveal
We are featuring a spooky YA title today, Daughter of the Fallen by Madeline Wynn. As part of our tour stop we have a "First Chapter Reveal" for our readers. When done reading, enter the tour-wide giveaway. Enjoy!
Author: Madeline Wynn
Publisher: Book Baby
Pages: 250
Genre: YA paranormal
Format: Kindle
Most sixteen-year olds aren't worried about the fate of their immortal souls. May Krieg should be.
Typically, honor student May's biggest problems
have revolved around her super-hot arch-rival, Jack. But when a school project
takes them ghost-hunting in a local cemetery, she discovers that an ominous
force roams in the darkness around her.
And it follows her home.
It claws its way into her life, burning messages
into her wall and imprinting them onto her body. Even worse, she can't tell if
it's trying to possess her... or protect her.
May's thoughts soon become actions, causing the
target of her anger severe physical pain and giving her a rush the likes of
which she has never experienced. She
quickly realizes that she needs to find a way to reign in this power before she
kills someone. May hates the pleasure it gives her, hates herself for hurting
others, but she can't stop.
As her entire world shatters around her, she is
forced to ask what her soul is worth-- and who would she risk losing her soul
to save?
(For readers who enjoy: teen paranormal romance,
teen horror, teen romance, nephilim, demons, YA, YA horror, YA paranormal, YA
romance, ghost stories)
First Chapter:
This
is New England. And in New England, a town without a good witch hanging or
ghost story just, well, isn’t considered to be a real town. So when I walk past the iron gate of the
cemetery and feel the urge to bolt riding up my legs like a herd of football
players bum-rushing the food counter on taco day, I set my shoulders and do my
best to cowboy up.
Set between imposing stone walls and punctured
by large granite fists, Hillside Cemetery definitely looks like it deserves its
sinister reputation, making my attempt at bravery rather brief. “This place sucks. Maybe we should just go.”
“Here,
watch your step,” Cay says and holds out his hand to help me over the uneven
cobbles just on the other side of the entry. Once we make it over the stones,
he drops my hand and pulls the recording equipment out of the duffle.
We’ve
been friends ever since kindergarten, when some boy taunted me for living in a
“little troll house.” Cay, the kickball
king, told him that it was actually a gingerbread house, and everybody
knows that only fairy princesses live in gingerbread houses.
He
was wrong, of course; it was witches who lived in the gingerbread houses, a
fact I pointed out to him later, but I gave him props for the effort. We’ve been “Cay and May” ever since, but the
whole dating thing still feels… awkward.
“Is
this all from school or is Jack bringing some of his dad’s?” I swipe an errant
curl of hair out of my face and cringe at my surroundings as I reach for the
big videocamera. Why does it have to be
so dark? Why can’t people ghost hunt in
the daylight? You can still supposed get
sound bites and whatever in the daytime, right?
It’s not like ghosts go anywhere or sleep or, you know, whatever.
“Well, the big stuff is the professional gear with night
vision from school. And then we have my
stuff.” Cay stops in front of a wide
tomb, laying his multiple cameras and his mini video recorder along the top
like they are the most precious things in the world. “Weird that Mr. Dowd put
both you and Jack on my team.”
“Yeah, weird.” And a nightmare. If it wasn’t for Jack, I’d
be ranked first in our year, and, unlike Jack, if I don’t earn a ton of
scholarship money for college, then I can’t go.
Cay
fumbles with the equipment, his breath rising in great grey puffs of frost,
lingering in his dark bob of curls. I
shiver.
A
BMW pulls up in front of the entry gate, looking sleek and new and out of
place.
I
run an unsteady hand through my untamable hair…right…Jack.
He
gets out of the car and strides towards us, stepping out into the camera’s
lights: short blond hair, high cheekbones, and a long neck leading to strong
shoulders. Everyone at school, except
for me, that is, adores him because he’s rich, intelligent and
supposedly lost his virginity to a Victoria’s Secret model.
Watching
the god-like way he strides across the cemetery, you can almost believe the
hype. He lifts his eyes to meet mine as
he nods a greeting. My heart flips.
Of
course, it would be easier to dislike him if he wasn’t so damn… hot. I shake my head. I hate that about him, too.
“You’re
late.” I grab the sound gear from Cay
and hand it to him, eyeing the orange-clad harpy of a girl trailing after him.
“I
had to pick up Alicia.” He indicates the
thing as he straps on the professional sound gear. “And respond to your post on the AP History
board about gun control.”
I
huff. “You think we should arm everyone
with a credit card?”
“What
I think is irrelevant, Mason.” Jack’s
the only one in the universe who calls me by my full name. “It’s what the
Founding Fathers wanted that matters.”
He holds out his hand to help me navigate my way over a broken
tomb. I ignore it. He smirks, “Or do you not support the Bill Of
Rights?”
God,
please keep me from throttling him tonight.
Cay clears his throat.
“WTF, losers? A
graveyard?” Alicia Impestio. Wearing her designer hoodie unzipped so that she
reveals way more skin than she has to, her straight brown hair is bleached at
the tips and held off of her over-tanned face by some rhinestone-studded
catastrophe. I grit my teeth.
“Hey Alicia, glad you could make it.” Cay holds the minicam out towards her and
helps her onto the cobbled path of the graveyard.
“Whatever.” Alicia
grabs the mini and swats at Cay’s hand as she struggles to gain a
foothold. A challenging endeavor, I’m
sure, for someone wearing flip-flops in November.
She gives me the once-over, lips curling.
“You
really wore that?” She asks, mouth open
with disdain.
“Alicia…” Jack’s voice is low, menacing.
“I
mean” –she gives me the once-over and sneers- “Aren’t the Kardashians some of
you people? They at least know how to
dress. But, then again, they also know
who their daddy is.”
That’s Alicia: hitting where it hurts. I blink through the
stinging at my eyes as my mind races to find something snarky to
say...something to…
“Alicia,” Jack snaps. “Stop.”
“Fine,
but tell Clay Aiken over there to hurry it.
I’m cold.”
Jack makes a motion with his head to indicate that Cay
should ignore her as he adjusts the weight of the portable boom on his back.
“Okay,
I’m filming.” I say and catch the
low-hanging harvest moon before panning down to Cay. “In three, two, one…”
“This
is Cayden Robison of Chase Hills High Broadcasting reporting on site at
Hillside Cemetery. In 1734, three witches were reportedly hung just up the
road, on the town green and buried, here, in this cemetery, in unmarked
graves.”
“Then,
in 1864, three men were arrested for grave digging, and ever since, people have
reported strange things not only here, but especially out behind the burial
grounds, in the woods.” Cay runs his hand along the top of a worn tombstone.
“Reports
of paranormal activity really began to pick up in the past thirty years.” He pauses, and I pan the camera over to the
creepy oak and the broken bench beneath it, hands a little unsteady. “Some people claim to hear voices, others see
full-body apparitions, but most convincingly, in the 1980s, some kids back here
partying say that they found satanists performing rituals in the woods. They watched as the group made a make-shift
temple of one of the half-buried barite mines in the woods, and claim that the
men actually raised a demon.”
He
stops, looking intently into the lens of my camera. I flex my fingers, my
breath rushed, like I’ve been running.
“Tonight,
we’re going to dig for the truth and see if Hillside Cemetery is actually
haunted.” Cays smiles.
Deep
breath, May. It’s just a story. Fairytales. There’s no such thing as demons,
or ghosts.
Cay
motions with his hand to indicate that the “official” filming has ended and
that now the “ghosthunting” part of the project begins. Why couldn’t we report
on the old tavern, or maybe on one of the farms like everyone else? I blow onto
my fingers to keep them warm before turning off the main light of the camera
and switching to night vision.
A dog barks. I jump.
Looking at the shadows clinging to the crooked, thin stones more cautiously, my
heartbeat ticks up. Stupid dog.
Jack, eyeing me with something like concern, takes a step
in my direction.
“So,
what exactly are we looking for? Has
anybody actually taped any evidence here?”
I ask, trying to put some steel in my voice. Don’t look stupid in front of Jack, May. He’s not freaked out and you shouldn’t be
either.
“Lots of people have caught pictures and stuff… a few good EVPs.” Cay stops and explains as he snaps a bunch of
still shots. “Electronic Voice
Phenomena. Voices of ghosts are usually
at such a low frequency that human ears can’t pick them up, but you can catch
them on tape.”
Cay walks, holding out both a still camera and a wand-like
mini-recorder in front of him.
I follow, looking over my shoulder. “Sounds like a bad
recording…or interference.”
Jack laughs soundlessly as we slowly follow Cay’s
movements. Is it wrong to say that I’m
happy Jack’s here? I mean, it would be
better if it was someone else, of course….
Cay storms around the tomb and wags his finger at me, dry
leaves crunching beneath his feet. “It’s
not interference, jeez May, didn’t you read those links I sent you?”
No. The whole ghost
thing is ridiculous. The trees at the edge of the cemetery, though, are
freakish. Black and dripping with
shadows… I absolutely would have read a
link about a barite mine lurking somewhere beneath those trees.
“This is creepy.”
Alicia says, “Jack, we’re going to Eric’s party later, right?”
Jack glares at her.
“Whatever.” She
purses her lips and tosses the minicam on the ground, “I’m going back to the
car.”
Thank you, God.
Cay’s sweet, boyish features twist at Alicia’s defection.
“We’ll do some EVP work, first, OK?” He messes with his digital voice recorder
for a minute before holding the wand-like thing before him. He presses record. “Testing.”
We wait. The frost
from our breath hovers around us, filling the darkness with fog, hiding us from
the trees.
Cay
looks to me. Then he pushes stop. He
plays back the recording and we hear him say, “Testing.”
Jack shuffles his feet, trying to lower the boom over where
Cay is standing in the least conspicuous manner possible. A strange, cool feeling falls over me. My teeth clench against it.
“Shhhh, May. Do you feel that?” Cay holds out his arm,
listening.
My body tenses. “Feel what?” I ask, angry at myself for my quickening
heartbeat.
“It just dropped like ten degrees. Ghosts need energy to manifest, and when
they’re about to appear, you find a cold spot. Just like this.” He grins.
Swallowing my galloping heartbeat, I refrain from
mentioning that it is always cold in November in Connecticut. But a wall of cold that hits suddenly, in a
graveyard, while trying to talk to the dead…
“Is anybody here with us tonight?” Cay asks, holding the recorder out before
him. “Is there anything you would like to say to us?”
We wait in the silence of the night, Cay with the tiny,
handheld voice recorder and Jack with the pro gear and mic, both recording,
both waiting…
The
cold sits at the bottom of my stomach like a virus, lying, waiting to rear up
and make me ill. I keep the camera on
Cay with shaking hands, black hair falling in front of my eyes, but I don’t
dare swat at them, in case I miss the shot.
Cay plays the tape back. He waits, holding his breath as we
hear his voice asking the first question, and thankfully only a blank pause
before we hear him ask the second and I relax, shoulders softening, but just
then, just as he moves to turn off the playback, a sound, a groaning, emanates
from the small machine he holds in his hand.
“Go.”
“What the hell was that?”
I shriek, jumping in time with Cay and reaching out to grab at Jack’s
shirt.
“It sounds like it’s saying ‘go’, hot damn!” Cay shouts triumphantly. “We like totally made contact!”
Jack looks at my
hand on his shirt and smiles. I let go. Crap!
“Mason,
this ghost hunting stuff is all bull, you know that, right?”
Heart
slamming, I hold my feet steady beneath my pounding heart. Bull, yeah, bull, right, I do know that. I nod at him, breath heavy.
“Here,
I’ll show you.” Jack lowers the long
wand microphone to his feet. Arm muscles
tensing as he pulls the battery pack off of his back, he plays back the
feedback on the main sound recorder. He
fast forwards then hits play. We hear
Cay ask his questions and…I hold my breath…and…and…nothing. Jack’s right.
Nothing groaned. Nothing said
“go”.
Thank
God.
“The EVP recorder’s more sensitive.” Cay says incredulously as he points the EVP
recorder at Jack’s set lips. “It’s
specially set up to pick up more sound waves than standard equipment.”
“More
sensitive than professional sound gear?”
Jack raises his eyebrow and looks me in the eye. “He pre-recorded it, Mason. He’s faking.”
“Cay?”
“I’m
not lying, May, I swear!” He hops around a cracked tombstone and grabs my hand
in his, “Promise.”
“Right.” Jack shrugs off the rest of the
soundgear. “Using an assignment on local
history as an excuse to play ghost hunter was a bad idea, Cay. Faking a ghost
sighting or hearing or whatever to impress your girlfriend is just wrong.”
“We’ve
just experienced something supernatural here!”
Cay turns to face Jack, looking wiry standing against Jack’s athletic
physique.
“No,
we haven’t.” Jack’s eyes meet mine and
my heart flounders… not sure as to what the hell it should be doing. “He’s lying to you, Mason.”
My
heart tightens, falls.
“I
am not, you dick!” Cay shoves Jack in
the chest.
Jack
doesn’t push back, he just straightens out and looks to me again, “Maybe you
should ask him what else he’s lying to you about, Mason?”
“May,
you’ve known me like your whole life, you know I wouldn’t fake this.” I look into Cay’s eyes, searching for the
truth. He wouldn’t. For one, he’s not that smart. And he wouldn’t fake something like this. Not
on purpose. Not if it would mean
tricking me. Maybe Alicia tampered with this stuff somehow… And what the hell
is Jack implying?
“He
wouldn’t lie, Jack.” I look across the
field to the blackened woods. “Not to me.
It must be the equipment.”
Jack’s
face closes...he’s pissed. “For your
sake, I hope that’s true.” He hands me
the sound equipment. “I can wait by the
car if you want me to, but I won’t be part of this.”
“Just
go.” Cay demands, getting in Jack’s
face.
Jack
raises his eyes to mine. My heart amps up.
I force my eyes to the ground. I
don’t want him to go. Safety in numbers and all that.
Wait,
Jack’s walking away….
I turn to Cay. “Why is he so sure you’re
making this up?”
Cay
looks at his feet. “Probably just pissed
he’s not in charge of something for once.”
“Maybe.”
I watch Jack’s form seem to disappear into the trees and tombs beneath
the light of the moon.
“Come
on.” He looks over at Jack’s retreating
form and says at full volume, “I’m your boyfriend and I won’t let
anything bad happen to you.”
Jack
stops, back tight, and Cay sports a defiant grin as he ushers me closer to the
tree line.
After
a long moment, Cay clears his throat and talks into the wand-like EVP machine.
“We’re here to talk to you.”
Leaves crunch beneath his feet as he picks his way through
the tall blades of yellowed grass and creeps down towards the woods. I ask,
“Wait, Cay, where are you going?”
He hits ‘record’, ignoring me.
“We
want to talk to you.” Cay calls, talking
to the dead as he motions for me to follow him, trampling twisted fronds of
dead milkweed as he crosses the field of graves and approaches the trees.
My heartbeat ticks up even further by the sudden stillness
of the trees. No owls, no wind, even the
yippy dogs from the condos have stopped.
My feet stay planted, rooted… I really don’t want to go near those
trees. Much less walk around in them.
“Would you like to say something to us?” He waits for what
seems like a year, then stops recording.
He
meets my eyes over the top of the view screen.
He pushes ‘play’.
We wait. I feel a
trickle of sweat down my chest, sliding over my racing heart…I swallow the lump
in my throat…waiting…
Merciful silence. I let out a breath of relief. Thank God.
That first voice was probably just the wind, or Cay doing something
beneath his….
“Go away.” The voice is loud enough to hear, coming
from the woods, and my heart takes a great leap, stomach trembling. Cay’s eyes widen, and just before I drop the
camera and run back to the car, he grabs my arm, and holds me steady, fear like
a giant nail in my chest…. and we hear it again, the voice, low, dark, barely
above a whisper. “Demons.”
Cay shivers with excitement. “Did you hear that? Were you recording? Did you catch what it was saying? This is like totally amazing!”
“It was crystal clear what it was saying, Cay! And it means
we need to get the hell out of here right now!”
My breath leaves short, angry clouds of frost in the air around me, and
I struggle to keep a good shot on anything as I look into his delighted face.
No way. No way. This is bull. I’m being punked or something,
right? He has to have paid someone to hide in the trees. He didn’t tell me because he wanted me to
look scared on film. He’ll tell me
later, we’ll laugh about it later…
“No way, it means we’re going into the woods! How many times do you get a chance to
possibly catch an inhuman haunting on film!
This is like wicked hot.” Cay
hops a thin sapling and walks into the forest.
“Cay, please, let’s just go back to the car. We’ve got more than enough for our three
minute assignment.” I say, voice
thin. Please don’t make me go in
there.
Breathe,
May, breathe. It’s just trees,
dammit. You like trees. I look up to try
and find Cay.
But he’s gone, walking into the misshapen wood, trees
bending, scooping at the ground instead of the sky. I peer into the shadowed forest, and then
back to the graveyard. Dampening my pounding heart, I square my shoulders and
try and think strong, think tough. I
can’t let Cay go in there alone. He’ll
trip on a rock or something and get himself killed. I take a deep breath, hope
to God this isn’t a mistake, and take a step into the trees.
The woods are definitely worse than the graveyard. The graveyard has some sense of form, some
light. The woods here are a mess of
fallen vines, thorn bushes and half-broken, half-dead trees and their sickly,
barren limbs above. Holding onto the
peeling bark of an old birch tree, I allow my eyes to adjust to the new degree
of darkness.
Having better vision through the lens of the camera than I
do with my own eyes, I raise the camera and slowly make my way through the
chaos. I follow Cay’s movements with the
camera, watching his lanky form appear and reappear onscreen ahead of me,
asking more questions of the voice.
There are things here.
I feel them, watching, waiting, my skin tingles at the sensation, as if
it has sprouted thousands of tiny, needle-like thorns. The only sounds in here
come from us, which is…well… wrong.
“Ugh! That totally sucks! May, go around, I got caught in
this nasty puddle here. Oh, wow that’s
cold.” Cay says, shaking his foot and
hopping around some saplings.
“We should go.” I say.
“It’s hard to shoot in here.” My
path around the freezing mud leads me either through a patch of thorny
undergrowth or over a massive downed tree.
Right, over the tree it is then. I lower the camera and let it dangle around
my neck and use both hands to grab the log and climb up and over. Landing on the other side, I pull a leaf out
of my hair. Wait…why does it feel like
the ground here isn’t frozen? My feet
sink…what’s going on? Did I step into a
pile of decaying leaves?
The
ground gives beneath my feet and the forest floor rushes up to my eyes.
A
moment of dark free fall and confusion ends with the clarity of impact. Pain
bursts my body. Burning up through my
legs, through my lungs, through thoughts of anything. Anything but the pain…erasing
everything.
I can’t breathe.
Like a fish on a dock, I fumble as my lungs torturously pull in raw,
slicing clouds of oxygen. Short,
excruciating breaths, but I have to….
“Cay” I call for my friend, somewhere above me, but the
sound that leaves my throat is too low, too guttural to carry.
I’m
wallowing, covered in something. Oh
crap. Am I in a grave? I can’t tell; I can’t see anything. My heart is on overdrive. The smell is
noxious. I wipe some of the sludge off my face, only to smear more of it near
my eyes. It clings to my sweater, wet,
cold, beneath my filthy coat. The
stench, oh God I can’t see. What is
this?
The only light filters in from a small hole
somewhere maybe eight feet over my head.
Are
there bones? What is that smell? Decaying leaves? No, too deep, and the smell is rancid, like
something is dying, or has died, leaving me lying in a pool of decomposing
flesh. Oh please God, tell me I am not
in a puddle of rotting bodily fluids.
The noxious fluid clings to me, burning my nostrils as I try and stop
the heaving of my chest and I gag.
“May!
May can you hear me? Are you
OK? Oh crap, I like can’t like believe
this, if you can hear me, I am like calling 911, ok? Are you bleeding?”
“Cay.” I try again, a low moan as my body’s initial
numbness turns to tiny pricks, like millions of biting ants running up and down
the length of my body as my nerves surge back up. I lay on my side, curled up in the mire.
Fighting pain, fighting panic, I look around me. And see nothing. The dark is absolute. I move my head to look at my quivering,
bleeding hands. They don’t seem to be
broken. Okay, this is good. Well, maybe
not good, but I’m not dead, and that’s at least something. Just calm down and think your way out of
this. Check your legs.
My right leg is sore, throbbing, but okay. I move my left
foot and waves of agony reverberate up my leg. I exhale forcefully, trying to
exorcise some of the throbbing so I can focus.
“Cay!” My voice is a
low, whiny croak…not enough…not enough…
My eyes adjust, slowly, so slowly. I lean on my aching left
hip. My phone. Open the phone. I pull my cell out of my
pocket. Hands trembling, I flip the
phone open. The ambient light I’m counting on fades to black, as if
snuffed. Damn! I just charged the stupid thing this
afternoon. It’s so cold, so dark…
Breathe, just breathe.
“Cayden
Robinson. I’m at Hillside. No. My
friend, she fell into like a hole...I don’t know, yes, a hole…no…look, you like
have to get her out like now….” His
voice fades.
Breathe
in…His voice echoes down to where I lay in a pool of grayish light. Breathe out….I look around at the walls, and
see nothing. Nothing but darkness. Focus, May! Breathe in….Cay is up there, not
too far above you, and you will be able to call to him in a minute, once your
breathing steadies.
Breath out… “Cay!” I call, voice finally unlocking.
“Oh my God!”
He fumbles, kicking debris down into the hole, “May!”
“Just
stay calm, OK?” He calls, “The EMTs told
me to tell you not to move because you might have a neck injury or something.”
Not move? Stay calm?
Seriously? I feel my cheeks
moisten and I stifle a yowl. Breathe
in….
I wish I could see into the dark around me. Then at least I would be able to know where I
am. Sitting in the only light makes me
feel like I’m onstage.
Remembering the light on the camera, I fumble around my
surrounding area, only to finding more mud.
Hot dammit!
“I’m going to look around and see if I can find something
to help you out with, OK? Like a stick
or something.” Cay calls.
I
sit, cold, trying to stay calm. But I
feel…something….
I
feel it. I am not alone. The tips of my fingers go numb. Something is
here…around…watching….
Cay returns to the edge of the hole and he leans his head
over. “I don’t want you to like, freak
out or anything, but I think you’re in the shaft.”
The temperature plummets and my stomach lurches, “What
shaft?” I ask, voice hoarse.
“Like, the shaft, May.
I think I just found the entrance over there, it look like it’s sealed
and all.”
My heart flutters.
“Cay, are you talking about the mine shaft? The one the …..”
“Yeah.” Cay
murmers. “But don’t panic. Help is totally on its way.”
Asshole!
Don’t panic? Is he for real? I’m in the satanist’s shaft and he tells me not
to panic!?!?
Something shuffles in the dark not three feet from where
I’m laying. My heart shifts, “Something
just moved, Cay.”
Cay’s
head is back in the light. “It’s
probably just a mouse, May, relax.” His
voice is tight.
Right,
a mouse. But it sounds bigger…
I
hear a low-level snarling. Bile dribbles
down my throat, burning as it goes. “Cay, there is something down here.”
The
color slowly drains from my cheeks and all feeling rushes to my core. Growling.
Something is here. Growling. Oh God help me. Growling.
My
mind frantically searches, wishing I could see anything in the darkness. My
throat tightens and I am barely able to whisper. “Help me.”
“May, here.”
Cay drops a glowstick down the opening, and I watch with horror as it
illuminates a large, growing mass of shadow against the rock of the wall. No.
The shadow is vaguely human in form, and can’t be cast by me. No.
I’m on the wrong side of the light.
My blood ices. Please somebody help me.
Move! May, move! I
tug at my legs desperately and back away from the sounds, but it feels like I
am surrounded. I have nowhere to
go. I have no escape. The light of the glowstick fades before it
hits the floor, swallowed by the darkness, as if absorbed by this thing, and I
hear the sound of the video camera’s plastic casing being ripped,
shredded.
“Cay!” Shrieking, I
clamor at the wall behind me, looking for some sort of grip to try and pull
myself out of the mineshaft, hands only finding slick stone. Then I feel it, hot breath on the back of my
neck. “Get me the hell out of here now!
There is something down here and it’s huge!”
“May! Hold on! Help!
I’m gonna, I just, like…”
The black is absolute, but I feel it, breath tickling at my
skin, everywhere, nowhere, my fingers scraping at the rock wall, trying to find
a hold, a way out. “Get me out of here!
Please! I feel it, it’s
everywhere!”
“May! What’s going on?
Are you OK? Help! Somebody!”
Cay’s screams are desperate above me as I fall to my knees, the air
taking on life a life of its own as my fingers bleed, clawing against the
rock. Can’t think. I hear another sharp, angry voice somewhere
above me. Can’t breathe. I lunge right
to try and avoid touching the mass of darkness to my left, but my head bangs
hard against the rock wall and I can’t keep my eyes open.
It
all goes black.
GIVEAWAY
Madeline Wynn is giving away a $50 Amazon Gift
Card!
Terms
& Conditions:
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you are confirming you are at least 18 years old.
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via Rafflecopter.
- This giveaway begins
November 3 and ends January 31.
- Winner will be contacted via
email on Monday, February 2.
- Winner has 48 hours to
reply.
Good
luck everyone!
Thanks so much for having me on today!!
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